


Safe and Sound

by Sakira_hime



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Avengers AU, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky is a hero, Bucky x Reader, Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Kind of AU, Marvel - Freeform, Mental Illness, Multi, PTSD, Smut, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, and SMUT, angsty fluff, i dont know what happened, mature themes, mcu - Freeform, non-canon, this started out as a drabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 05:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakira_hime/pseuds/Sakira_hime
Summary: I am a non-superhuman, recruited by one Tony-freaking-Stark to be a part of his 'team'. I obviously come with my own baggage and the rest of the team has theirs. This is how the least likely almost-Avenger saved me.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this honestly started off as a drabble for a Tumblr series but my playlist got pretty dark and here we are: an angsty Bucky fic I'll actually post. (I hoard the rest because of reasons) Lemme know what you think and if it's worth continuing?

I practically melted in the boiling water, my hands resting on either side of the giant tub and my head propped up by a fluffy towel. Today had sucked. It was hard. Two missions I didn’t want to think about and the prospect of seeing _him_ again tomorrow was just… Too much. My eyes slid shut and I blindly reached for the whisky glass behind me. My fingers connected with cool glass and the burning amber liquid shouldn’t have soothed me the way it did but in my line of work, this was a necessary evil.

I’d soaked in my troubles for all of ten minutes when I heard a soft knock at the door, followed by a low “Babygirl?” and I smiled, humming in reply. The tension and pain in my muscles seeped away, the tightness in my chest easing with the click and snick of the door opening and closing. He padded across the tiles toward me, his bare feet making almost no sound. He reached the tub and I couldn’t stop the audible sigh that slipped past my lips as his fingers brushed through my damp hair. Wordlessly, he reached forward and pried the empty glass from my hand, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of my head as he did so.

“Angel,” he murmured, lips pressed to my hair. I smiled again, my fingers closing around cool metal and bringing his palm to my lips. I remember how uncomfortable he was the first time I’d done that; he’d been too shocked to say anything or pull away, but the wariness was there, in his blue eyes. It had taken a long time for him to allow me to touch his left arm.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice a little louder this time. I sat up while he slipped his feet into the water behind me, his fingers tracing the water droplets that raced down my bruised back. I knew what he wanted, but I was so drained and he seemed to be willing to work extra hard for it, so I hummed again, leaning back against his legs. The pressure on those bruises, both new and old, sparked little spots of pain, dotting across my vision and making me hiss. His hands came to rest upon my shoulders, bracing me and easing my back away from his legs, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I tapped his hand, flesh on flesh, and he let go, letting me relish in those little bursts of pain. I could almost taste the worry that radiated off him, and I felt bad.

“Babydoll,” he said, this time the magic word cracking with the weight of his anxiety. I smiled again; it felt surprisingly good to have someone worry about me. Turning to face him and resting my arms across his knees and my cheek on my forearm, I looked up at the man whose damn presence alone made all the bad things feel like they couldn’t touch me anymore.

“Heya, sarge,” I whispered, loving how his darkened eyes brightened when he looked at me. His large hand swept a few strands of my hair behind my ear and came to rest on my face, his thumb caressing my cracked lips. He smiled back at me and leaned down, his forehead on mine, and we stayed like that.

I can’t remember how many times we’ve ended up here: in the tub, one of us fully clothed, the other submerged in steaming water that reached our chests. He’d told me the heat was the only way he ever felt truly clean, the only way he could stop feeling like he was covered in someone else’s blood. I felt the same. Though I spent more time covered in his blood, and even the water couldn’t wash away that smell.

I took a shuddering breath and he shushed me, both hands cupping my face, slowly lifting until my eyes met his. His eyes bore into mine, searching, waiting. He would always wait, wouldn’t he? Always ask first, even if he didn’t speak. I nodded once and he pressed his lips to mine, warmth spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes, despite the hot water. His hands left my face, tracing gentle patterns along my shoulders until his arms wound around my waist and pulled me from the water like I weighed nothing. He was so heartbreakingly gentle, so soft and careful, like I might break beneath his hands. Like he might break me.

As my body left the water, images flashed in my mind, splattered blood dancing across the blackness of my eyelids, screams echoing in my ears and slick, hot blood coating my shaking hands and the air stolen from my lungs-

“Babygirl,” Bucky whispered against my mouth, his arms tightened around my shivering body, grounding me. Jaw clenched, I fought to shove the memories away, to force them back down, but they just got clearer, louder, more vivid. The cool metal around my waist turned icy, fingertips lengthening into vicious spear-like tips, carving into the vulnerable flesh beneath my ribs. I gasped but couldn’t open my eyes and I couldn’t push away from the blades slicing through skin and bone and sinew. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Bucky was here, the bad things couldn’t get to me, they couldn’t reach me, and yet there they were. Waiting on the wings of my mind, claws sharp and teeth gleaming, just waiting to tear me to shreds and I. Couldn’t. _Breathe_ -

“Babydoll!”

My eyes flew open and I sat bolt upright, my hands already closing around the blades I kept underneath my pillows and slashing at the claws on my shoulders. The steel made contact with another form of steel, but there was no other sound.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” came a voice, as hands, one warm and calloused, the other cold and unforgiving, carefully unfurled my fingers from the hilts. Not claws, my brain sluggishly realised. Hands. Human hands. The knives made little noise where he cast them aside on the bed, and his hands were steady as they took mine, shaking - and bleeding, I realised-, in his. I must have grabbed the blade and not the hilt. I didn’t feel the pain, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, my body thrumming with terror.

I looked up, my gaze traveling from his hands, metal and flesh, up his arms and across his chest, along the column of his neck and coming to rest on his face, concern blazing in those eyes. He didn’t say anything as he reached for the first aid kit beneath the bed.

I could only stare at him while he cleaned the shallow cuts on my palms and dressed them with an expertise I knew came from personal experience. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat and my blood still roared in my ears when he tied the bandage. His thumbs rubbed small circles on the inside of my wrist and the world fell silent again.

I stared at him until my tongue unglued itself from the roof of my mouth and I could form somewhat coherent thoughts again.

“Sarge,” I croaked, my throat raw and aching. I had been screaming. That’s what brought him in here.

“At your service,” he joked half-heartedly, his eyes fixed on our intertwined hands, but this time he didn’t pull his hands away for a mock-salute. Reality began to set in. It had been a dream. All a dream. My psyche’s way of torturing me for all the evil I’ve done. Showing me Bucky in the one way I wanted him most, the one way I could never have him. And showing me why he could never be mine.

My lips parted, to say something or just remember what it felt like to breathe, I don’t know. But I was still staring at him, and I knew I should look away but I couldn’t. I should’ve thanked him, but the next words that fell from my numb lips were “What did you hear?”

He looked up at me for a second before glancing back at his fingers curled around mine.

“I thought I heard a scuffle. So I got up to check it out,” he explained, keeping his voice low like he was trying not to startle me. “Thought maybe it was Banner in the kitchen again.”

He grinned that lopsided grin of his, amusement a faint shadow on his face.

“Then I heard you scream.” The amusement vanished as though it had never even been there. Shit, it must have brought back some awful memories for him. No wonder he came in.

“Oh, God. Bucky, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my head hanging in shame. Bucky had enough going on without my night terrors interfering. “I didn’t want to wake anyone, they’re normally not like this, it must have been the stupid mission today, I-”

“Hey,” he said quickly, his right hand hooking my chin and lifting my face. “You never have to apologise for anything, especially this.”

I just stared again, mouth hanging open like a damn fish, unsure of what to say to him. He saved me the trouble. Brow furrowing like he just remembered something, he tilted his head slightly and spoke.

“What do you mean ‘they’re normally not like this’?”

The breath I’d been taking in left me in a gush. Shit. He didn’t need any drama, least of all from me. I wanted to look away but his fingers were steady under my chin, and he levelled me with a look that brooked no argument. I couldn’t lie.

“They’re not usually this, um, loud,” I muttered, gaze flicking right and left, searching for something, anything, to focus on. Anything but those blue eyes I felt myself drowning in, that face I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. I saw his brows knit even more if that was possible.

“How often?”

I didn’t want to answer, but some part of me wanted someone else to know, even if they didn’t really care.

“Every night,” I breathed, my eyes closing under the weight of exhaustion and unshed tears. He huffed a surprised breath.

“And no one knows a damn thing,” he mumbled. I looked up in shock. He sounded… angry. I blinked.

“Should they?”

“I- They’re your team,” Bucky growled. “They should have noticed something was off, someone should have done something.”

“Whoa, there, Sarge,” I interrupted, my voice mercifully stronger. “Everyone has their own shit they have to deal with. I mean, have you _met_ the team? We’re a ragtag bunch of unbalanced superhumans with a martyr-complex to rival Katniss.”

Bucky actually rolled his eyes at that, and I remembered Steve introducing Bucky to the weird and wonderful world of young adult literature, the first being The Hunger Games. I almost smiled.

“Shut up, that was a long time ago,” I defended. “But seriously, Sarge, have you met the Avengers? A billionaire genius with PTSD and a penchant for building murderbots, another supergenius whose Mr Hyde can level mountains, your own best friend who is struggling to find his place in a world without a war, a former crime-circus performer slash thief whose childhood makes mine look like a walk in the park, the best spy in the world whose childhood makes his childhood look like a cake walk, and a demi-god with family issues I couldn’t wrap my head around if I tried. And they’re just the original six.”

I laughed.

“And then, there’s the rest of us,” I sighed. “Aforementioned murderbot-turned-superbot whose battling his budding humanity, an experiment-turned-badass witch who could kill you with half a thought but is too pure to do so, a former US soldier who lost sight of what he was fighting for, another who wanted to do right…”

I took a deep breath, my voice dropping to a whisper.

“A super-soldier whose life was taken, who was forced to do things he would never have done, and an average girl with a knack for escaping who just can’t escape her nightmares.”

It was silent for a long time. I hoped I hadn’t upset him. I hoped he understood why I’d stayed silent. It was silent for so long I thought he wouldn’t speak again until-

“We’re pretty fucked up.”

The giggle that escaped me was sudden and a tad hysterical. I smothered it with my free hand but my shoulders still shook with laughter. His laugh was raspy, the kind of sound still muffled by sleep. It was my new favourite sound.

His smile slowly faded as he looked at me, really looked at me.

“You don’t have to hide, y’know?” Bucky squeezed my uninjured hand. “If you need anything, my door is open.”

I nodded dumbly, not awake enough to properly understand what he was offering. He leaned forward and brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

“You’ll be okay, babydoll.”

The bed shifted as he got to his feet and walked toward the door, and my eyes fell on his back. His bare back.

Had he been shirtless the whole time?


	2. Ukrainian Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cringey feels and fighting self-destruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I got a few requests to continue this, so here's a little gift from me- er, Santa!

I was mortified.

My senses numbed by the fear and adrenaline from my nightmare, I hadn’t had the sense to feel embarrassed or even ashamed that Bucky freaking Barnes came into my bedroom to wake me from those terrors. Or worse, that he’d stayed a while longer than he needed to, just to talk me down. It did feel nice, I guess, that he cared even a little. Even if it wasn’t real.

But Bucky’s weighted gaze followed me around the tower the next morning, and  _ that _ felt very real. He thought he was slick, that I wouldn’t notice his almost constant presence. Like that could happen. I was suddenly hyperaware whenever he entered the room I was in. God, it was uncomfortable. I couldn’t get rid of the sickening suspicion that he was going to spill any second.

“Alya?”

I started at the sound of my old name, the gun I’d been polishing for the last hour nearly slipping from my usually sure fingers. Natasha stood in the doorway, arms crossed and looking all too smug.

“Tasha,” I greeted, setting the .22 on the floor before me, lined with weapons. “Haven’t seen you around.”

Her left eye twitched, imperceptible to the untrained eye, but code to those of us who knew to look for it. I knew she had more to say, but we both stilled at the sound of approaching footsteps, Natasha vanishing in that way that was unique to only her, leaving me utterly alone with the one man I was actively trying to avoid.

“You’re avoiding me,” he pointed out, accusation lighting his eyes. I reached for a Swiss army knife, turning away from him. I shouldn’t have, but…

“How very astute of you, Sarge,” I muttered, focusing entirely too hard on shining the blade in my hands. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he towered over me and the last thing I wanted to do was be that far beneath his gaze.

“Do you regret telling me those things last night?”

That was direct. Almost Vision-like.

And I had no idea what to tell him.

Yes, I regretted having a single soul apart from myself even marginally aware that every night I wake up shaking and drenched in sweat because I can’t run when I’m asleep. But no, I don’t regret that it was him I told. If anyone knew what it was like, it was Bucky.

I sighed and flipped the blade in my hand, the steel singing lightly as it spun. 

“I regret that it isn’t my secret alone anymore,” I explained, carefully avoiding his heavy stare as I turned to face him. “But I don’t regret telling you.”

He was quiet for a while, which was something I was far more used to compared to this chatty Bucky I’d been around lately. 

“I won’t tell anyone about any of it,” he said simply, like it was all I needed to hear. In truth, it was. Whether he was being honest or not, I just needed to hear those stupid words. I wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but I nodded.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, eyes fixed on the black tiles at his feet.  _ And I won’t tell anyone I love being called ‘babydoll’ _ , I thought miserably.

“Will you stop avoiding me now?”

I shrugged, feeling like a petulant child who’d just been scolded. Plus, I liked making him work for it. It meant he spoke more. Spoke to me more.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that, doll,” he chuckled, and I blatantly ignored the ripple of smugness that snaked along my shoulders. “We got a mission.”

~

“This was a terrible idea,” Natasha said, her voice crackling through my earpiece. I was inclined to agree. Recon at 3am in the middle of winter in Ukraine was as terrible as terrible ideas could get. Bucky was silent, though he had more reason to be considering he was trailing the target. A fact that still boggled my mind because, of the three of us, Bucky was the most conspicuous. The wiser choice, as I had repeatedly pointed out, would have been for me to play tail, but Nat and Bucky weren’t having any of it.

“Stop being salty about your multiple gunshot wounds and concentrate,” Natasha said. I flipped her a bird she couldn’t see, but she laughed like she had, so I continued my satellite tracking way up on yonder rooftop where the snow fell fast and heavy. It gathered thick along my braid that I’d neglected to hide beneath my hood and melted into the collar of my jacket. Though I’d never admit it, I was kind of glad they’d forced me not to tail the target. The two holes in my stomach had been freshly sewn up and the last thing I needed was the sight of blood.

“Target headed south, en route to you, Tasha,” I murmured, the hand pressed to my ear more for warmth than to hear her quiet “on it”. I squirmed under the sudden press of unease, my mind going straight to the stitches in my abdomen. I hoped none of them had ripped. My mind began to scatter: I’d been in one position too long, I needed a new nest, fast. What if the satellite tracking failed like it had last night? What if I lost Tasha and Bucky? I was the one they had shot at, so that was fine. But what if they found Tasha? What if they got Bucky?

No.

No, they were far more skilled than I could ever hope to be, and one of them was a damn super-soldier. I counted to ten, slowly breathing in and out. The bitterly cold wind helped clear my head a little. I needed to focus.

“Status,” I demanded, a little more harsh than I meant to be. I glared at the laptop screen, zeroing in on two blue dots just a mile apart. Bucky was closest, while Tasha had scoped out a larger perimeter for more possible exits in case things went to shit. She was very, very far away.

Still no answer.

“Status.”

Nothing. I snapped the laptop shut and shoved it into my backpack, throwing it onto my shoulder and scaling the ledge between two buildings.

“Sarge, Tasha’s gone dark,” I said, grabbing hold of a rickety trellis and hauling myself up. 

“Roger,” came his instant reply, and relief flooded my veins. Okay, he could find Tasha while I-

“Hello again.”

I gritted my teeth and turned, hands fisting in my pockets. 

“Where are your friends, lovely?” I seethed at the man in front of me, the barrel of his gun aimed at stomach, where he’d buried two bullets the night before. Kyren.

“Not here, Ky,” I deadpanned, unfurling my fingers. “Didn’t you get the hint last night?”

He sauntered towards me, one hand deep in his pocket. He stopped too close and grabbed me by the the throat, his gun gone. Instead, his fingers traced over the stitches in my abdomen.

“Hmm, I was rather hoping you’d get the hint,” he drawled, his other hand punching me hard in the gut. I spluttered, tasting blood in my mouth, but I didn’t struggle.

“You know me better than that,” I mocked. He didn’t know me at all. “What’s a bullet or two between friends?”

He grinned, his teeth blinding in the darkness.

“Perhaps you need something a little more…” he paused, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a very long, very familiar knife. He pressed the cold blade to my cheek and I winced. “Permanent.”

“I knew you’d like the knife,” I mused, eyeing the handle I had personally designed. “I’m glad to see you still have it. Warms my heart, Ky.”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around my neck, cutting off any oxygen. I gasped but forced myself to stay calm. If he’d wanted to kill me, I’d have been dead ages ago.

“You’re lucky you were his favourite,” Kyren whispered. “It’ll be unfortunate when he learns you’ve lost your looks.”

He pressed the blade into my skin and slashed. I didn’t know if he’d cut up or down or across, but I knew it fucking hurt like the sun had personally bitchslapped me with a forge of swords. I hissed, shoving hard and sending him reeling. I covered the gash in my cheek and possibly my eye, grabbing my gun with my free hand and landing a perfect shot to his kneecap, sending him screaming to the floor.

“Consider this your final hint,” I spat, lowering the gun. “Stay away from Romanoff. Stay away from the Winter Soldier. If I hear you’re still tracking them, I will end you.”

Holstering the gun, I flipped off the edge of the building, bright spots of pain blinding me as I navigated my way down the side of the building by feel. Fuck, he’d gotten too close. How the fuck was I going to explain this? Tasha and Bucky had bought the story I’d come up with last night, but this gash on my face couldn’t be another rogue bullet.

Think!

I couldn’t, I was losing so much blood. Shit, how bad was it?

I pulled my hand away from my face and squinted at my palm. I could barely see, darkness crept from the corners of my eyes, but I was too far away. Too out in the open. I dragged myself to what I prayed was an alley and found my comms pad. I held it close to my face and fumbled for the channel labeled ‘Barnes’. I pressed it and sank to the frozen floor, back against a rough, brick wall.

“Sarge,” I groaned, hoping he could hear. I didn’t find out. Darkness swallowed me and I knew no more.

~

“God dammit, Romanoff!”

“You need to calm down.”

The voices grew louder, and the throbbing in my head got worse. I didn’t want to open my eyes. That was Tasha and Bucky arguing. We all knew better than to get involved.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Someone attacked her!”

“We all knew the risk, the job had to be done.”

“Fuck the job, this was personal!”

Shit, they were talking about me. Fuck. I’d passed out before I could get back. I winced. My face felt tight and burning hot.

“Barnes, you don’t know that-”

“The hell I don’t! You look at her face and tell me this is strictly business.”

Oh God. I tried to calm my heartbeat, but it was no use. They’d hear it on the monitor soon enough.

“Hey, I happen to think my face is strictly business, thankyouverymuch,” I mumbled, one eye cracking open and taking in the medical room I was in. Definitely back in the tower. Tasha grinned and unfolded her arms. She nudged my knee gently.

“I knew you were faking,” she teased, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. We’d have words later. “Chocolate shake?” she asked, disappearing when I nodded. I pursed my lips, eyes slowly moving to where Bucky stood. He didn’t move, didn’t unfold his arms or move forward. He didn’t leave either.

“Hey Sarge.”

He shook his head, eyes closed in what I assumed was exasperation. But he was angry, I could tell. I just didn’t know why.

“Sorry, I blew the mission. I wasn’t focused enough but it won’t happen again-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

Bucky didn’t budge, but he seemed to fill the whole room.

“You heard me,” he said. “The truth.”

“I am telling the truth,” I defended, brows furrowing. And, in part, I was. I had lost focus. But I needed to stall Kyren to make sure Bucky got as far away as possible. 

“You’re telling me,” he growled, voice low and deadly. “That the girl who hacked Stark Industries when she was twelve to make all the nuclear warheads pink and never got caught, was caught?”

“You give me way too much credit,” I sighed. He pushed off the wall and walked to the door.

“No, I give you too much trust.”

And he left.

I stared after him, my heart squeezing uncomfortably. It was honestly for the best, if Bucky stayed far away from me.

But it wasn’t what I wanted.

~

“So,” Tasha said from the shadows. “You managed to piss him off that much?”

I sighed and held my hand out for my milkshake, wincing when my stitches pulled.

“I can’t tell him about Kyren,” I whispered, bringing the straw to my mouth and drinking deeply. “Bucky has enough shit to work through without me adding on unnecessary stories. Besides, I don’t even know why he’d  _ want  _ to know.”

Tasha perched herself on the edge of my bed, the mattress barely shifting. “For a spy, you kinda suck at gathering intelligence.”

I threw my pillow at her face and she ducked.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” I groaned, laying back against the pillows gingerly and cursing. 

“It means,” Tasha drawled. “That he didn’t leave your side from the moment he found you passed out in that frozen alley. That-” she pointed at the door Bucky had left through, “was the first time he’s stepped foot away from your bed.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“How long?”

“Ukraine was four days ago,” Tasha said. “We had to keep you under; you’d lost so much blood and your skin needed time to heal.”

I sucked in a short breath, voice dropping to a whisper.

“How bad?”

Tasha’s face held no sympathy, but she was gentle when she answered.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

That didn’t comfort me. I sighed.

“Could you tell Bucky I need to talk to him?”

Tasha rolled her eyes.

“Tell him yourself,” she chided, tossing red hair over her shoulder as she left.

_ Asshole _ , I mentally cursed, using my arms to push myself into a sitting position on the mountain of pillows behind me. I tried not to whimper as I reached for the jug of water on my bedside table. Grunting, I managed to inch it closer to me before lifting it.

I’d miscalculated.

The jug was slick with condensation and heavier than my tired limbs could manage, and it slipped from my fumbling fingers and smashed to the ground.

I actually did whimper then.

Kicking off the blankets as carefully as I could, I swung my feet over the edge, trying to judge the best spot for my bare feet to land-

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I was sure ‘experiencing cardiac arrest’ was not the answer he was looking for, though his sudden presence at the foot of my bed scared me half to death. I huffed.

“I broke the jug,” I explained needlessly, leaning over the edge again. He caught my shoulder faster than I could blink, stopping me from possibly doing something stupid. Bucky bent and swept shards of glass into his hand, dumping them in the trash can when he was done. A flash of red on his palm caught my eye and my stomach turned. 

I reached forward, wanting to make sure I wasn’t imagining it but he pulled away. I curled my fingers into a fist and dropped my hand to the bed. He refused to meet my gaze as he set about cleaning up.

He’d pulled away.

He’d never pulled away before.

“Sarge?”

He carried on, making no sign he’d heard me, or wanted to, and leaned against the wall beside the door. I chewed the inside of my cheek. As much as I didn’t want to tell him, I owed him the truth. And maybe he’d be better off knowing what was after him. After me.

I closed my eyes.

“His name is Kyren,” I began, quietly, though I knew he could hear me. “We grew up together, trained together under our father, back in Namibia. When our father chose me and not him to- when he chose me, Kyren tried to murder his way through the camp to prove that he was better than I ever was. He failed, but our father thought that forcing him to serve me would be ‘adequate punishment’. He tried to kill me, and I ran. And here I am, with the Avengers.”

I took a deep breath, the lies weaved with truths tumbling so easily from my lips. 

“He shot me that first night in Ukraine, and again when he-” I raised my hand to my bandaged cheek. “When he did this.”

I dropped my hand and met Bucky’s gaze, finally turned on me.

“He threatened you and Tasha,” I explained. “I was scared he’d hurt you guys.”

Bucky pushed off the wall but didn’t come any closer. I swallowed, prepared to tell him another truth, smaller, but infinitely more precious.

“I was scared he’d find you, Sarge.”

Bucky exhaled, hard and sudden, like I’d surprised him. I fucked up. Too much. Too much he didn’t need to hear.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it isn’t my place-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky rasped. I jumped, not expecting him to say anything. He was by my side instantly, his hand on the sheet next to mine, apology swimming in those ocean eyes. I knew him well enough to know he hated scaring people, that even my pathetic little jump made him feel bad.

“Sorry,” I said again, for making him feel bad and for not telling him sooner. And because I didn’t know what else to say. 

“I thought I could handle him,” I mumbled, miserable and sounding like a belligerent child. The ghost of a smile touched his lips and the pain in my chest eased just a little. 

“You can,” he assured, eyes fixed on the distance between our fingertips. “You were just surprised, maybe a little cold.”

My mouth popped open at the veiled joke and I whacked his arm. A mistake, I realised too late, when my bruised fingers hit his metal arm. I hissed, swearing and clutching my hand to my chest. He chuckled and gently pulled my wrist away from where I cradled it, smoothing his calloused fingers across mine.

“I didn’t grow up around snow,” I huffed, if only to distract myself from his ministrations. “Winter for us was your summer. Besides, Tasha took my favourite coat.”

“And we made you sit up on that roof alone,” Bucky murmured, more to himself than me. My brows creased.

“Whether I was on that roof by myself or with you or Tasha, he’d have found me, Sarge. I’m glad I was alone.”

He ground his teeth so hard it was audible. Oh boy, shouldn’t have said that.

“You shouldn’t have had to face that alone.”

I was expecting something along the lines of ‘you shouldn’t have been there in the first place’, but I’d forgotten that Bucky was so different. I may have seen all my weaknesses, hated myself for them, but he saw all the strength people didn’t know they had. He saw strength, acknowledged and respected it, no matter who you were.

“I knew my team would get to me in time,” I said, lowering my gaze to my knees with a pout. It was true, at least. I may have been afraid, but not of dying. I’d known that Bucky would get to me in time, that Tasha would have killed to get me out.

It was that thought that scared me the most.

They thought I was worth killing for.

Bucky laughed and dragged metal fingers through his hair.

“You really are somethin’ special,” he muttered, reaching over to my bedside table and pouring a glass of water. He offered it to me wordlessly, his eyes fixed on my hand, and the IV buried in my skin. I felt self-conscience suddenly but buried the feeling and took the glass with a small ‘thank you’. 

“Doll,” Bucky said, and when I met his gaze he was far closer than he had been, his ocean eyes boring into mine. My breath caught and left my lungs in a soft ‘whoosh’, and even if I’d wanted to pull away, the pillows behind me kept me propped in place, unable to move. My eyes dropped to his lips, parted and so, so close.

“Sarge?” I managed to breathe, cautiously meeting his eyes again. Jesus, why was he allowed to  _ look _ like that. My heart lodged itself in my throat. His eyes dipped to my mouth and dear sweet baby Jesus, that was a swarm of pterodactyls in my stomach.

But there was doubt there, too. Why though? I wanted this, wanted him. Didn’t I? 

Yes. I wanted him. More than I should.

And that was the problem.

My shoulders slumped and I hated it. Hated myself and everything that still chased me. Everything that would chase him. Chase him away, chase him back into the darkness he was slowly shedding.

Bucky must have caught my hesitance and paused, brows furrowed with concern. I opened my mouth to explain, to find some weak excuse but he stopped me. He brushed warm fingertips across my cheek, so breathtakingly gentle, too much like my dreams and nightmares.

“I should meet up with Romanoff and Stark,” he said. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead and my eyes squeezed shut. When I opened them again, he was gone.

I sighed and lay back into the mountain of pillows, the weight of my new stitches nothing compared to the weight in my chest.


End file.
